


You Keep His Shirt (He Keeps His Word)

by hope27



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, New Year's Eve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-02
Updated: 2015-01-02
Packaged: 2018-03-04 22:16:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3093014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hope27/pseuds/hope27
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two different new year's eves that end very differently for Felicity Smoak.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Keep His Shirt (He Keeps His Word)

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N:** Happy New Year to you all! So I wasn't going to write a New Year's fic. But this plot bunny hit me and would not let be quiet. I hope you enjoy it and that it brings a little light and happiness to your new year. 
> 
> I would LOVE to hear what you guys think! Thanks so much for all of your support!

Felicity spent New Year’s Eve in the Foundry, staring at her computer screens, his face staring back at her. Beautiful blue eyes that she would never see again looking at her. It was a mug shot of him, but she could see past the mask he wore for everyone else to the man she knew underneath. In her mind, she could see him gazing her her, a mixture of mirth and what she now recognized and knew was absolute love. 

She’d never feel the touch of his calloused fingers running over her arm or shoulder again; how she’d missed those fleeting caresses in the past few months. She’d give anything to feel his hand on her shoulder even one more time. 

If she closed her eyes, she could still feel the press of his lips against hers, the way his large hands had encompassed her entire face, fingers capable of so much damage holding her like she was made of the most delicate crystal, something cherished and adored.

He had a way of making her feel that way with one fleeting look, a soft caress of his hand, or the simple sound of her name falling from his lips.

She didn’t realize she’d brought her own fingers up to rest against her mouth until the sounds of the crowd above her in the club began to count down to a new year.

Felicity’s eyes slid shut, shaking her head, not wanting to enter into a new year - one in which he wasn’t there with her.

Slipping from her chair, she turned the monitor so it was facing the back of the Foundry where the bed she had bought for him still sat. 

Random bits of her closet hung from various places around the Foundry. She’d basically moved in, spending any time she wasn’t at work here, searching, hunting, fighting. 

There was a flame, deep in her heart that refused to be snuffed; a hope that lingered and whispered that he was alive. 

She wanted to believe that more than anything, but she knew better than to get her hopes up. She was living on fumes as it was - barely eating or sleeping, simply doing enough to survive. 

She saw the worried looks she got from both Roy and Digg; knew they were concerned about her. Digg had tried to talk to her more than once, but she’d insisted she was fine. She just needed time even though she wasn’t sure if that would ever be true.

Even Ray noticed the change, but she had shut him out almost completely. She did her job, helped set up the new program he wanted, continued to help bring the company into a national leader in technology. She put on a smile for everyone else, but on the inside she was caving, hurting with every morning that she woke to realize it hadn’t been a nightmare, and her dreams were only that, dreams.

Ray had invited her to the New Year’s Gala at the company, but she’d turned him down. She couldn’t celebrate tonight. She didn’t want to be anywhere but where she felt closest to him. 

Dressed in her nesting doll pajama pants and one of Oliver’s old t-shirts, she padded over to the bed as the countdown neared ten seconds to midnight.

With a deep, heaving sigh, she sank into the mattress, laying down as she curled into the pillow that still vaguely smelled like him.

As shouts of joy and celebration rang out above her, a tear slid down her cheek and she swallowed the sob that threatened to follow.

“Happy New Year, Oliver,” she whispered brokenly, hoping that wherever he was, he would know she was thinking of him - that if he had defeated the odds again, he would make it back to them - to her.

(12 months later)

Thea had the club in full-swing again. Another New Year’s Eve party for the ages. Felicity marveled briefly at the propensity of the Merlyn siblings to throw parties - and wondered what one would have been like if they had been able to put their skills together.

A sad smile twisted on her lips as she sighed, twirling in her leather chair in blue lighting of the Foundry. She yawned, rubbing at her tired eyes as she glanced at the time. 

It was already 9, and she knew she had to get up and finished getting ready.

She entered the bathroom near the back and kicked off her heels, closing the door and eyeing the dress she’d hung in there a few hours prior.

With a soft smile, she began to undo the buttons on her blouse, her bright emerald nails stark against her cream-colored top.

As she pulled the shirt from her skirt, her mind thought over the past year. It had started off so dark; the grief almost pulling her under and swallowing her whole.

She remembered her last new year’s eve - falling asleep curled around Oliver’s pillow, aching for him.

An errant tear slipped down her cheek at the memory and the pain those memories still caused to swell within her. 

It had been a slow process, but she’d begun to heal. There were still moments that she woke shaking, crying out his name. 

Her fingers trembled as she recalled those nightmares as she tried to zip up the back of her dress, a growl of frustration filling her as she tried and failed to twist her arms the right way to reach the hook at the top. 

A warm hand encased hers, the air shifting around her, sparking with something familiar that warmed her from her toes to her head, and she immediately relaxed.

Calloused fingers she once never thought she’d feel again, ghosted over her skin until they reached the clasp, fixing it quickly before finding the zipper and slowly inching it upwards.

With a smile tugging at her lips, she turned as his hands came to rest steadily on the slope of her hips and looked up into beautiful blues eyes that a year ago she was afraid she’d never get to see again.

“Thank you,” she murmured, lifting up onto her toes, her hands landing on the tops of his shoulders, still clad in dark green leather, and brushed her lips over his.

He growled against her mouth, one strong arm banding about her waist and pulling her closer as he deepened the kiss, flicking his tongue against her upper lip and then nibbling on her lower as she opened to him. Her fingers carded through his short strands of his hair and she tangled her tongue with his. He lifted her up higher, her toes barely brushing the cold tiles of the bathroom floor, but she was nothing but warm in his arms.

After a few heated moments, when she knew he was about two seconds from taking off the dress he’d just zipped up and forgetting about the party upstairs, he groaned and pulled back, both of them gasping for breath.

Bringing one hand up to her face, he pushed a stray curl off her forehead, his fingers tangling in her long blonde strands that she’d decided to leave down with their natural curl for the night.

“You look beautiful,” he whispered, pecking her lips once more and then again as if he couldn’t get enough.

She giggled softly, and he leaned down and nuzzled her neck, his hands beginning to wander once more, down her sides and over her ass. “I love this dress.” 

His voice rumbled through his chest, a deep, longing creating a pull so strong in her that she had to brace her hands against his shoulders and shake her head to keep from following his thoughts and letting them get completely distracted.

“Ah ah,” she scolded, stepping backwards to put a tiny bit of space between them, but he kept her firmly in the circle of his arms. “Not until later, mister. We promised Thea. This year, I’m not spending New Year’s Eve down here…”

Her words carried a weight she didn’t mean to bring up, dark shadows pulling at her subconscious, dark wisps of memories floating against the warm glow of his love, until she felt his lips against her temple and his hands cupping her face softly.

“I came back,” he breathed into her skin and her eyes slipped shut as she reached up and grasped his wrists, feeling the strong pulse beneath his skin.

“You came back,” she repeated, not just for herself but for him as well.

She turned her face into his hand, letting him cup her cheek as his thumb stroked over her soft flesh.

They both carried demons from that time - a long schism that had been formed in their lives where they both thought they’d lost the other forever. 

It became their own coping mechanism whenever the other was beginning to get lost in thoughts of that time or the nightmares that tried to overtake them.

One would say the phrase and the other would repeat it back.

A moment later, he released a long breath as his arms slid around her waist and pulled her close. She pressed her nose into his neck, breathing deeply, fisting her hands in the leather of his jacket.

The feel of the slick fabric beneath her skin reminded her that he was still dressed in the wrong suit.

“You need to change,” she stated softly, allowing herself a second longer before reluctantly pulling out of his arms. “Thea told us to be up there by 10.”

Stepping up to the mirror, she glanced at her phone, checking the time. “You have thirty minutes,” she told him with smile and a wink as she turned back to the mirror to fix her make-up.

She caught his intense stare and narrowed eyes in the reflection of the mirror. Kicking the door closed behind him, he slowly began to pull down the zipper on his jacket, revealing the skin-tight stretch of his specialized t-shirt he wore beneath. 

Felicity had her mascara halfway to her eyelashes, her breathing labored as she watched him, each movement deliberate and slow.

Her breathing picked up, blood pounding through her ears as he hung the jacket on the back of the door and then grabbed the edges of his shirt and pulled it quickly over his head. The muscles in his arms and stomach rippled and flexed with each movement, tempting her. Flashes of her fingers dipping into every ridge and valley flew through her mind, making her mouth dry as she recalled doing just that the night before, her lips following her hands and making the man behind her moan and writhe with her very touch.

She almost dropped the mascara when she heard the zipper to his pants being pulled down, her eyes zeroing in on the movement, knowing by the grin on his face that he wasn’t wearing anything beneath them.

“Oliver,” she warned, but her voice was deep and raspy which only caused his own eyes to darken with something that made heat swoop in her belly.

“Felicity,” he replied, the gravelly tone slipping over each syllable and making her grasp at the sink with her free hand as the bolt of desire that tore through her rocked her to her very core.

He slid his pants down his legs, revealing the sinew and strength of his thighs, and she knew exactly how they felt under her hands when he was close to the edge.

He was half-hard and she couldn’t take her eyes off him. She swallowed, trying to tamp down on her desire, knowing they didn’t have time, and she wouldn’t be late for yet another event because they couldn’t wait until afterwards. But in their lives, the guarantee of an afterwards wasn’t always there, and so they usually took the time they had - found comfort and solace in each other when they could.

It wasn’t until she heard a clank of her mascara hitting the skin basin that she realized she’d dropped it. When her eyes found Oliver’s in the mirror once more, she found his proud smirk as he turned and flipped on the shower before stepping in and closing the door behind him.

She groaned, swearing under her breath as she tried to regain her composure and finish her make-up. She’d make him pay for that later...after all, he’d find out that he wasn’t the only one foregoing underwear under their clothes today.

In order to keep herself from joining him under the hot spray, she closed her eyes and counted to twenty, reciting the new piece of code she’d come up with in her head before opening her eyes and finishing her mascara.

She was putting on the finishing touches of her lipstick when the door to the shower opened and he stepped out, an amazing sight wrapped in a small billow of steam. He was kind enough to know that her hair and a lot of heat was not a good combination and made sure not to use the hottest setting.

She’d cracked open the door while he was in the shower in case the steam got to be too much. She was thankful she had her hairspray, and that he was quick in the shower - at least when she didn’t join him.

Narrowing her eyes at him, she gave him a pointed look and purposely refused to look at him as he took his time drying off and then wrapped the towel low around his waist.

Placing the last of her makeup back into her bag, she was about to turn to let him have the space when his hands trapped her in against sink. He nosed her hair out of the way, nipping lightly at her shoulders, the gold sparkling dress she wore leaving a lot of her skin exposed, especially in the back.

His lips ghosted over the nape of her neck and she shivered as his fresh scent enveloped her. She leaned back and rested her head against his, and the feeling of contentment surrounded her.

Being loved by Oliver Queen was an amazing feeling. It was moments like these when she just wanted to be able to stop time and revel in the moment. 

He wrapped her up in his arms, and then pressed a kiss to the top of her head. She looked up at them in the mirror, his tanned skin a stark contrast to hers. 

Loved. That is how she felt. Loved and cherished and whole.

“You know how much I love you, right?” he asked her softly, as he caught and held her gaze in the mirror, eyes beseeching her to understand.

She frowned and lifted her hands to cover his own, tangling their fingers together. “Of course,” she replied, “I love you too.”

His expression melted into contentment, and she recognized the moment for what it was. Every once in awhile Oliver would do this - the need to tell her he loved her; to make sure she knew. He’d been doing it since he returned to her. She didn’t question it, she just accepted that it was something he needed, and she let him.

Squeezing his fingers, she brought one of his hands to her lips and kissed his knuckles.

“Now, finish getting dressed. You have less than ten minutes,” she told him, stepping out of his arms and then slipping out of the door, their fingers lingering as long as they could.

When he emerged exactly seven minutes later, her mouth watered at the sight. There were very few sights that compared to Oliver Queen in a three-piece suit. The white starched shirt stood out deliciously against his skin, and the dark grey vest cut over his shoulders and torso, drawing her eyes lower.

He hadn’t yet slipped the suit coat on, but instead had it draped over his shoulder with one hand, a small smile lingering on his lips as he began to lean against one of the pillars near her desk.

“Just stop,” she mumbled, knowing he knew full well what he was doing.

A low chuckle rumbled from his chest as he pushed off the pillar and came up to her. She stood as he slipped his suit coat over his shoulders, immediately turning off her screens before turning to search for her heels. 

Finding them where she’d dropped her purse by the med bay table, she reached back blindly knowing he had followed her. He caught her hand, steadying her as she slipped one shoe on and then the other.

The pads of his fingers rubbed gentle circles against the sensitive skin of her elbow and she swallowed thickly. 

“Oliver,” she murmured, turning back to him with a sigh. He was not going to behave tonight - she knew and it was going to be lucky if they made it to the countdown.

“Don’t worry,” he murmured, “I’ll be kissing you at midnight...you just don’t know where.” 

The timbre and dip in his voice had her clutching the lapels of his coat, images of all the places he loved to kiss her swimming in her mind as she leaned her forehead against his chest. 

“You’re so not playing fair,” she murmured, and the rumble of his chest let her know he was proud of himself.

She scowled before leaning back. Two could play at that game. 

Lifting on her toes, she licked a strip across the edge of his jaw, scraping her teeth over it as she whisper in his ear, “Glad I decided to skip the underwear then.”

With that she patted him on the chest as she pushed away from him and walked towards the bottom of the stairs. When she turned back, she noticed him still standing in the same spot, his hungry eyes following her, mouth hanging open, and hands clenched into a fist at his side.

“Fel-i-ci-ty,” he growled, and she just smiled, her heart light as she started up the stairs. 

“Come on, we’re going to be late, Oliver,” she teased, her voice taking on a soft lilt.

He caught her elbow after her second step, and turned her around, his hands on her hips and she knew he was checking for himself.

His eyes darkened when he found out for himself though he knew she hadn’t lied, and he pulled her closer for another kiss. She began to protest because of her lipstick but melted into his hold a second later as his mouth gently caressed hers.

She leaned back breathless, forehead pressed against his own, reveling in his promise of things to come. Opening her eyes, she smiled and lifted her hands to his tie, straightening it as he adjusted his suit coat before heading up into the club, hand in hand.

The crowd grew louder as they neared ten seconds to midnight, and Oliver turned to her, his hands coming up to cup her cheeks in the private corner he’d managed to find for them.

As chant of “one” rang out throughout the club, his lips descended on hers and her hands wound around his neck as his ran back into her hair and down her back pulling her closer.

His tongue swept into her mouth and she whimpered as it tangled with her own. 

“Happy New Year, Felicity,” he murmured as he pulled back, kissing the tip of her nose and then her forehead.

“Happy New Year, Oliver,” she whispered before wrapping her arms around his shoulder and pressing her face into his neck. “Thank you for coming back to me.”

His arms pulled her closer, burying his face in her hair and letting out a soft sigh. “Always.”

Later, she found herself wrapped in his arms in the same bed down in the Foundry, their bodies tangled with each other and her heart at peace.


End file.
